Merry Christmas 2011!

A family tradition is to tell a small (or large in the case of my Dad) story about Christmas past.

Here’s mine….

My younger brother and I would spend the last month of the year trying to out do each other in the “being good” department. We would have debates on whether Santa really had his vision cloaked when it came to bathroom visits (ie: could he see us in there or NOT) and argue incessantly about which of us was going to stay up longest to see Santa on Christmas Eve night without our parents (or Santa) catching on that we were awake.

The late night shenanigans would usually start with us pushing the bed time to as late as we could without missing the window in which Santa visited our corner of the world. Then it was off to bed to whisper to each other through our bedroom doors about whether that creak we just heard was Santa or Dad coming up from downstairs.

One year is famous in our house. We had a split level home, with a small but grand foyer for the front door. You could go down to our rec room or up to the main floor with the bedrooms and kitchen and dinning and where the Christmas Tree’s stood, one on either side of our fire-place.

That year, my brother and I were at it again, working hard at keeping the whispers down and speculations flying. Checking to see if someone was sleeping or not (major coup if they were). But this one year something totally new and unexpected happened.

That was the year that our Dad scared off Santa Claus.

You see, my Dad worked a swing shift and so would sometimes come home after midnight. That year was the year that he was due to come home at midnight and then would have Christmas Day off and not go back to work for 3 more days. It was a huge deal for us….since Dad worked a majority of the holiday’s because the pay was so much better. So, my little brother and I added the speculation as to whether Dad would see Santa on his way home from work.

Imagine our surprise to hear our Dad at the front door saying “Hey! Who the heck are you and get OFF my ROOF!”. Then we heard rustling on our very roof, right above our rooms! “Ho Ho Ho!” was the reply. Then our Dad again “Ok Mister! I’m coming up and there and when I do you better be GONE!”

Well, that was TOO much for my brother and I, who barely made it out of our beds without breaking our necks, ran down the hallway towards the steps and the foyer, screaming “NO DADDY!!!!! It’s SANTA CLAUSE!!!!! Don’t scare him away! He’s got our presents!!”

It took my Dad a good half an hour or more to calm us down and get us back into bed and feigning sleep. We lay there, waiting for the sun to come up and when it did, we plowed into our parents room, screaming that it was Christmas and to wake up and we needed to see if Santa had come!

Thankfully, he had. Our presents were under the tree.

Thus began the tradition of our Dad’s run in’s with Santa, his helpers, his reindeer or presents accidentally dropped in the front yard with neighbors names on them “They must have fallen out of his sleigh as he drove over head.” was my Dad’s response to our questions. But mainly it started that early morning waking of our parents tradition that we still carry out. To this day and as full-fledged adults living in our own homes far away from our parents, my brother and I feverishly watch the clock and wait for that perfect 6am moment when we can call our Parents and wake them from deep slumber to say ” It’s Christmas!! Wake up!!! We need to see if Santa has come!! ”

So with that in mind, I give you this to enjoy as your Christmas Present from Bear and Gori. Merry Christmas to you all and a Happy New Year! See you in 2012!!!

Such a cute story! My personal fav was the year my brother and I plotted to wake up at 3am…then realized we couldn’t do anything but open our stockings until Mom and Dad came downstairs, anyway. I’m sure we weren’t quiet, so I think our parents took pity on us somewhere around 5 or 6am. Come to think of it, the “you can open your stocking without us” rule was probably devised to give us just enough that we wouldn’t come get them, or, say, start a tradition of waking them up at 6am on Christmas morning. Smart cookies.